Psychodelic
by jerseygirlinoxford
Summary: A short story written for Sharon's Locked Up for a Moment challenge on BabeSquad. Stephanie and Lula go undercover at a Halloween part to nab a skip. Duh...it's a Babe story of course. No Morelli bashing as he is barely mentioned.
1. Chapter 1

This is a little short written for Sharon's 'Locked Up For A Moment' challenge on BabeSquad.

**Psychodelic**

By JerseyGirlinOxford

**Part One**

Connie shuffled through her paperwork as Stephanie and Lula polished off the remainder of the doughnuts. Stephanie licked the powdered sugar off her fingers as she thought about her life. It had been a rough month. Stephanie and Morelli had been in an 'off-again' phase since the end of September. Rangeman had kept Ranger running up and down the East Coast. He popped in and out to check on her and constantly reminded her to call Tank if she needed anything thing. October had been kind of lonely.

At least Halloween was right around the corner. Her very favorite holiday. Grandma Mazur confiscated her Zorro **costume**. She wanted to go as _Don__Juana_ to the costume **party** at the senior's center this year. Usually, Stephanie would dress up and help Grandma Mazur hand out **candy** to the **kids**. Stephanie had to figure out what she wanted to be. There was no way she would give up having fun on Halloween!

"A-ha!" Connie announced. "I've got one for you."

She slid the file across the desk towards Stephanie. After wiping the remaining sugar on her jeans, Stephanie grabbed the file ad peered inside.

"Norman Bates?" Stephanie cried out. "Is this a joke?"

Connie just shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I swear on my mother's **honor**."

"Who the fuck is Norman Bates?" Lula demanded.

"Norman Bates…you know…the guy from the Psycho movie," Stephanie explained.

"I don't watch no **scary** movies," Lula told them. "They always about **ghosts**, and people gettin' killed and shit. Hell no…that ain't for me."

"He was arrested for possession with intent to distribute," Stephanie muttered as she scanned the file. Pot heads were usually non-violent, but the high bond suggested something else.

"Why is the bond so high?"

"The judge didn't want to grant him bail, but money talks. He's jumped bail more times than Joyce Barnhardt had the clap," Connie replied. "The **family** is loaded. His father owns a chain of motels around the country."

Stephanie groaned. "Don't tell me…the Bates' Motel?"

Connie chuckled. "You got it. I wouldn't want to take a shower in that place."

Lula whipped out her iPhone and looked up Norman Bates. "God damn! He's one goofy looking motherfucker. He kind of looks like Anthony Perkins."

Stephanie and Connie laughed.

"That _is_ Anthony Perkins," Connie told her with a snort. "He played Norman Bates in Psycho. _This_ Norman Bates is twenty-eight. Look."

They studied the picture in the file. Norman didn't appear threatening. Just shy of six foot, he looked thin and gangly. He tried to hide his thinning hair with a comb-over that would make Donald Trump proud. They only had three days to bring him in. How appropriate that the witching hour fell on All Hallows' Eve.

This skip was going to be tricky, Stephanie mused. Definitely would have to do her research on this one. Sadly, she had the time with no man in her life. With the money on this one, she'd be able to pick her own misery though. Her **mission** was clear. Norman Bates' days of **freedom** were numbered.

Stephanie's spidey senses served her well. Bringing in Norman Bates was harder than she expected. She had staked out his parents' house, his favorite haunts, and a few of his customers. Nothing. She called Ranger but only got his voice mail. If anyone had any suggestions, Ranger would. She felt funny about asking Tank. With Lula and Tank's break up still fresh, it would be awkward working with both of them. She decided to grab some lunch, head back to the bonds office, and regroup.

"Guess what, White Girl?" Lula gushed as soon as Stephanie got inside. "I found that motherfucker. Look."

Lula thrust an orange flyer into Stephanie's open hand before grabbing the bucket of chicken from the other.

**Halloween Spooktacular**

**October 31, 2011**

**8:00 pm until the Witching Hour**

**1630 Fairvale Road**

**Costumes a must!**

"Word on the street is that Norman is throwin' this party," Lula insisted.

"Whose house is that?" Stephanie wondered aloud.

Connie's nails clicked on the keys as she looked up the address. "What a surprise? The owner is Joe Considine, but it's being rented to John Bates who is..."

"Norman's father," Stephanie finished with a sigh. "I guess we're going to a Halloween party. I still need to get a costume."

"I got you covered," Lula told her. "There wasn't much left bein' that tomorrow is Halloween and all. But I think we gonna look fine. Here."

Lula shoved a bag into her arms. Stephanie pulled out a hideous, pink paisley dress. "I got you the sexy hippie costume. You can wear that with them suede fringe boots you got."

Stephanie frowned as she held the dress against her body. It barely came down past her ass. Memories of that little black dress that she almost wore to Joe's cousin's wedding came to mind.

"You can wear them spanky pants underneath, White Girl. You ain't gotta wear no thong," Lula added. "Now wait 'til you see mines."

Lula pulled out a white Grecian goddess costume that was shorter than hers…if that was even possible. Then she pulled out a huge black, afro style wig.

"I'm goin' as Afro-dyte," she told them proudly.

"You mean Aphrodite," Connie corrected her with a smirk.

"That's what I said…Afro-dyte. She's the Goddess of Lovin', and I'm gonna look fine."

Lula held the dress up to examine it better. "Hmmm…maybe I better get some of them spanky pants, too. I wanta keep my stuff _in__the_ _house_…if you know what I mean."

"Okay…the plan is to go in there, mingle a little bit, try to get him alone, and then cuff him." Stephanie described their plan of attack. "We can't draw attention to ourselves, or we could scare him off."

"If he's wearing a costume, how are you going to know it's him?" Connie asked.

Stephanie chewed on her lower lip. That was a good question. How would they be able to tell? Think, Stephanie, think, she demanded of herself.

"I've got it," she gasped as she snapped her fingers. "We'll just ask who the host is, so we can compliment him on throwing a great party." Burg manners did come in handy from time to time.

"I don't know, Steph," Connie warned. "You're kind of putting all your eggs in one basket. What if it's not Norman's party?"

Lula's lips smack with a tsk. "Nothin' ain't gonna go wrong, Connie. We're gonna look fine, and we'll get that motherfucker. Just you wait and see." Lula gathered up her costume. "I'm gonna head to Macys and get me a pair of strappy sandals. You know…the Roman kind."

"Aphrodite is a _Greek_ Goddess," Connie reminded her as Lula rushed out the front door.

"Greek…Roman…what's the difference?" Stephanie said. "People are going to think she's escaped from some Studio 54 museum or something. This is Lula we're talking about. Let's just say Lula has a unique sense of style. It's Halloween, so nobody will know the difference."

TBC…..

1195


	2. Chapter 2

**Psychodelic **

**Part Two**

With the classic rock station playing seventies music in the background, Stephanie donned the pink monstrosity that Lula had purchased. She found a faux-suede, tan fringed vest that almost matched her boots. The long fringes fell to the hem of the skirt. She also found a cheap suede messenger bag to carry her cuffs and stun gun. A brown scarf doubled as a head band. She slipped on a peace sign pendant that she had absolutely no recollection of ever buying. Kind of **scary** that she actually owned something like that. The accessories had toned down the loud color and really completed the outfit.

She stuffed her curls into a long blonde wig then adjusted the head band. Stephanie slid on a pair of rose-colored, John Lennon-style glasses, compliments of the same junk drawer that housed the peace sign. They were going in undercover after all. She couldn't risk being recognized.

Bounty hunting could be **feast** or famine. The $10,000.00 prize, less Lula's cut, would not only get her caught up but put her ahead for the first time since she lost her job at E.E. Martin. Failure was not an option; her **mission** was clear.

"You're going down, Norman," she told her reflection in the mirror.

Stephanie danced along to Deep Purple's _Hush_ as she packed her fringed bag. Almost ready. She just needed some lipstick. She boogied her way back to the bathroom to apply the cotton-**candy** colored lip gloss. She stepped back and admired her look. A sadness washed over her. She couldn't remember the last time she had put this much effort into getting ready to go out. And who was her date? Norman Bates. Swell.

"On your way to Woodstock, Babe?"

Stephanie gasped as she whirled around to see the man in black leaning in the door way of her bathroom. "Jesus, Ranger. You scared the crap outta me."

She scurried past him and tossed the lip gloss into her bag. Now she had all the essentials…stun gun, cuffs, gum, and lip gloss. "What are you doing here? I thought you had to go to Boston."

"I'm going there later. I had a change in plans and just wanted to check on you," he explained. "Tank said that you haven't called him. Is everything okay?"

"It's been a slow month," she admitted. And a lonely month, too.

"Hot date tonight?"

She scanned his blank face and shook her head. "No, Lula and I are going after a skip who's hosting a Halloween **party**. We needed to wear **costumes**, so he wouldn't recognize us."

She watched as his darkened eyes scanned her body, taking in every detail. More mixed messages. Ranger always pressured her while she was with Morelli. After they broke up, he had kept his distance. Their cat and mouse game had gotten old…any annoying.

"I don't think my love life, or lack thereof, is any of your business," she told him. "You don't tell me about yours, so you don't have any right to ask about mine."

Procol Harum's _A __Whiter __Shade __of __Pale_ filled the room. Ranger's expression softened as he slowly stalked towards her. Stephanie held her ground.

"Fair enough, Babe," he replied in a husky voice. He extended his hand. "May I have this dance?"

Before her brain had time to refuse, her heart forced her forward and into his warm embrace. The scent of Bulgari enveloped her, and her anger dissipated. Ranger always had that effect on her. Temporarily, Norman Bates, and the world, had been forgotten as the two slowly moved to the music. Temporarily being the operative word. The soft kisses he planted down the side of her neck brought her back to reality.

She felt his body stiffen as she pulled back. "This has got to stop. Sexual harassment is against the law, you know."

His mouth tipped up into a smile as he pulled her close again. "**Hmm, ****that's ****not ****sexual ****harassment, ****Babe*****. ****When ****I ****decide ****to ****get ****sexual, ****trust ****me, ****you'll ****know ****it**."

Sighing, she relaxed into his embrace again. Boy, _did_ she know it. Ranger never made idle threats. She just wished she knew what went on in Batman's head. As a **soldier**, he served his **country**. To Stephanie, he would always be more than a **hero**.

Sadly, the song ended. Ranger stepped back and took her hands in his.

"I stopped by because I also wanted to ask you something," he began.

Stephanie swore for a second that he looked a little nervous. She nodded for him to continue.

"Rangeman is one of the sponsors for a Veteran's Day dance at the Marriott. The proceeds are going to help disabled vets. I would like you to go with me."

Stephanie frowned. Did Ranger just ask her out on a date? Since Veteran's Day was in two weeks, did he ask her because he couldn't get anyone else?

"Do you really think I couldn't get a date?" he asked her in an amused tone. Damn ESP!

"No…I…uh…just…you never…." Flustered, Stephanie couldn't put her thoughts together. She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out.

"I hadn't had a chance to ask you yet," he insisted. "That's why I rearranged my schedule. I wanted to ask you in person. So…would you be my date?"

A slow smile appeared, and she squeezed his hands. "Yes, I would love to be your date."

Ranger pulled her tight against him and captured her mouth with his. Ranger's kisses made her melt like **marshmallows** in hot chocolate. She groaned when he end the kiss.

"Sorry, Babe," he whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. "I gotta go. I'll be back tomorrow. We'll pick up where we left off."

"I'll hold you to that," she whispered back.

Stephanie walked Ranger to the door.

"Call Tank if you need him," he reminded her.

"I don't feel comfortable calling Tank," she admitted finally. "I'll be with Lula. It's would be too awkward."

Ranger seemed to take in that information. "I know but call him anyway."

He gave her a quick kiss. "Thanks for the dance." He stepped into the hallway and started to close the door behind him.

"Ranger?"

He poked his head back inside. She raised her hand with two fingers formed in a 'V' shape.

"Peace," she said.

Ranger flashed his two-hundred watt grin. "Far out, Babe." And with that, he left.

She glanced at the kitchen clock. Shit, she had to meet Lula. Stephanie grabbed her bag and headed to her car.

When Stephanie spied Lula waiting for her at the curb, all she could do was thank God it was Halloween. No one would have ever guessed that Lula was dressed as a Greek goddess…or any kind of goddess for that matter. A reject from the 80's TV show Buck Rogers maybe, but Aphrodite…no way. The afro wig stood out about two feet in diameter. Stephanie was pleased to see that she added white spandex pants as the dress fit more like a tunic top. The Roman sandals idea must have been discarded, because she wore high heeled, silver boots.

Stephanie slowed to a stop and rolled down the window. "**Trick ****or ****treat**!"

Lula pulled the door open and hopped in the car. "Shit. I done enough tricks in my life…time for me to get some treats!"

"What happened to the Roman sandals?" Stephanie asked her as she pulled back into traffic.

"I was lookin' more like Venus Williams than Afro-dyte," she admitted. "I didn't want people thinkin' I was a tennis player and shit."

Lula paused to check out Stephanie's outfit. "Damn girl. You look almost as good as me. It's a shame we had to waste all this fabulousness on a skip. Why don't we find another **party** after we get that motherfucker?"

"Let's just see how this goes first," Stephanie insisted. The night was still young. Even though she had a date with Ranger, she was still Stephanie Plum. It was Halloween, they were dressed in costume and after a skip named Norman Bates…did she need to say more?

TBC….

Word count 1353


	3. Chapter 3

**Paychodelic**

**Part Three**

The huge mansion sat at the end of Fairvale Road. Cars lined the street. Music reverberated throughout the neighborhood. A witch, a cow, and a pirate congregated on the front stoop. Stephanie grabbed the first available parking space.

"I wish I had Rangeman's parking karma," she griped. They were still about four houses away from the Bates' Motel.

"Don't worry," Lula told her. "I'll keep my eye on 'em while you go get the car."

"Works for me," Stephanie agreed.

She snapped on the overhead light and opened her bag to retrieve her lip gloss. Immediately, she noticed that Ranger had tossed in her phone. He could give Criss Angel a run for his money. She rummaged around to see if he left anything else for her.

Lula adjusted her wig then fixed her make-up. Her bag tipped over, spilling a few items including a picture with Tank. Lula stared at the photo for a few seconds before thrusting in back into her bag.

"Do you miss him?" Stephanie asked softly.

Lula waited almost a full minute before she nodded. "I don't get it. He picked his cats over me. What the fuck was that jive-ass **turkey** thinkin' by pickin' the wrong pussy? I mean I know I sorta tricked him into thinkin' we was engaged. But he needed a push. For some big-ass, **scary ****soldier**, he can be a real wuss."

Stephanie squeezed her hand. "Have you tried to talk to him about it?"

Lula shook her head. "I thought he accepted me for who I am, but I guess I'm not as good as his damn cats. Sometimes, he made me feel like I embarrassed him or somethin'. **You ****don't ****change ****what ****you ****love, ****or ****you ****never ****loved ****it ****to ****begin ****with.**"

"I don't think Tank wanted you to change. I think the whole marriage thing just freaked him out. A lot of men hate the idea of losing their **freedom**," Stephanie told her. "And a lot of other men have no **honor** and don't see marriage as a reason to stop screwing whores on their dining room tables."

"Yeah, but you wasn't no hooker," Lula insisted. "I did what I had to do, but I don't do that no more. I'm workin' hard, and I'm a kick-ass bounty hunter now. I want people to see the new and improved Lula."

"We do, Lula," Stephanie said. "I think you should talk to Tank when you're ready. I think he just got a little scared."

Lula nodded. "Well…we really didn't do much talkin' if you know what I mean. I guess that was part of the problem."

Lula crammed the rest of her things back in her bag. "Enough of this sentimental shit. Let's get this **party** started."

Costumed guests filled each room, and some spilled onto the patio in the back yard. The DJ stationed in the huge formal living room announced that judging for the best costumes would take place at eleven o'clock. People piled delicious looking finger foods on their plates in the dining room. A full bar with two bartenders had been set up in the kitchen. It was quite a **gathering**. Apparently, dealing wasn't Norman's only specialty. He could throw a mean party as well.

"Let's do a lap and check out the place first," Stephanie yelled into Lula's ear. "Then we'll get something to eat. I hate taking a skip down on an empty stomach."

"That sounds good to me. I see some **pumpkin ****pie** over there callin'…_EAT __ME, __LULA_. I don't want to be rude and shit," Lula hollered back.

The costumes ranged from the cheap Walmart kind to the extravagant. A gaggle of drag queens dressed as Cher, Liza, Tina Turner, and Hillary Clinton conga-lined their way to the dance floor. A uniformed server refilled the empty trays. Stephanie thought it would be the perfect opportunity to ask who Norman was. She tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Excuse me…can you tell me where the host is?"

He scanned the room before pointing to an old lady in the hallway. "There is Master Bates."

"Masturbates?" Lula huffed. "What the fuck is he doin' jerkin' off at his own party? That's gross. I guess we should avoid eatin' the veggie dip."

"No…he's dressed like his killer mother, Norma, in the Psycho movie," Stephanie corrected her. "There's veggie dip?"

Norman wore a gray-haired wig fashioned into a bun. The housecoat-like dress hung like a potato sack. Chunky black oxfords covered his feet. Stephanie decided that Norman Bates' **family** tree must have been a wreath.

It was obvious Norman intended to enjoy his party, so his flight risk diminished. Plenty of time to eat. Lula already got a head start in the buffet line. Stephanie grabbed a plate and started to load up. They had shrimp, egg rolls, mozzarella sticks, potato skins, pigs-in-a-blanket…all the best stuff. She couldn't understand why Norman chose ruin it by serving **salad**. She heard Lula say something about the brownies as she pointed to this ginormous platter at the center of the table. Being the dessert first kind of gal, she sampled one. Holy crap that was good, she muttered to herself and grabbed four more.

Ten brownies, six egg rolls, 4 pigs-in-a-blanket, and a shrimp later, Stephanie felt ready to take down Norman. If they grabbed him now, they could be back to the party in about an hour. She hadn't had this much fun in a long time. And those brownies rocked! Whoever made them must have used that Ghirardelli mix. Stephanie scoffed down two more before pulling Lula aside.

"Let's get him now and get it over with," she hollered to Lula.

"Right on, White Hippie Girl," Lula agreed. "I don't want to miss out on the costume contest. First prize is $500!"

They searched the rooms, and there was no sign on Norman/Norma Bates. Stephanie headed out the back door to check the back yard. Good thing, too. It was getting hot in there. She asked the King of Heart's if he had seen Norman. He jerked his thumb towards the bushes. Lula and Stephanie creeped around a giant hedge to find him urinating on a rock.

"God damn!" Lula exclaimed. "You got like five bathrooms in yo' house and you gotta piss in the bushes?"

Norman whirled around in surprise, almost spraying them in the process. "What the hell?"

Stephanie pushed the trigged to her stun gun. They watched as the probes leaped into his chest. Norman/Norma cried out in pain as his body convulsed before dropping like a stone.

"Gross," Stephanie whined. "He peed all over himself."

"Rich motherfuckers ain't got no class," Lula added. "They got five bathrooms, and he usin' his yard as a toilet."

Stephanie started to giggle and couldn't stop. "You said '_toilet_'!"

"Shit, girl," Lula cried. "Did you eat them brownies?"

Stephanie nodded. "Yeah…they were really good, too."

"I told you _not_ to eat those brownies. They _hash_ brownies," Lula scolded.

"Oh," Stephanie replied. With an audible snort, she clapped a hand to her mouth to hold back the laughter. "I thought you said…'eat those brownies'."

Stephanie pulled out her cuffs and slapped one on Norman's wrist. She dragged him closer to the chain link fence.

"What are you doin'?"

Stephanie closed the other bracelet on the metal support post. "I want to dance now. We can bring him in later."

"Shit," Lula muttered as Stephanie danced her way back inside the house.

With the music blaring, and the drag queens getting in the way, Lula couldn't convince Stephanie to leave. She took out her iPhone and videoed Stephanie and the drag queens dancing to Lady Gaga's _Born __This __Way_. Knowing that Ranger was out of town, Lula only had one option left. And she dreaded it more than anything. She had to call Tank for help.

Lula couldn't bring herself to make the call, so she sent the video with the message…_S .__motherfuckin__' __OH. __S_.

TBC…

Word Count 1333


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

Lula didn't get a chance to count to three before her phone rang. She dreaded hearing the sound of Tank's voice, but now Stephanie was dirty dancing with some **ghost**. If Ranger saw those roaming hands, he would have strung that ghost up like a piñata and beat him with a stick until **candy** came flying out of his ass.

"What took you so long?" Lula huffed into the phone.

"What the hell is going on, Lula?" Tank demanded. "And where the hell are you?"

Lula smacked her lips. "Don't you give me no attitude, Pierre. I'm only callin' you 'cause White Girl needs help. She was **stuffin****' **her face with hash brownies, and she cuffed Anthony Perkin's momma to the back yard fence. It's almost time for me to win the **costume** contest, and we gotta take this psycho jerk-off to the station by midnight!"

She heard Tank's exaggerated sigh. "Let's take this from the top," he said with a less condescending tone. "Where are you?"

"**It****'****s ****a ****good ****thing ****that ****I****'****m ****a ****reasonably ****patient ****woman**. **Otherwise, ****I** **might ****have ****to ****kill ****you**. We at the Bates' **family** motel pickin' up a skip. White Girl is as high as a motherfuckin' kite. We gonna lose a shitload of money if we fuck this up."

Silence.

"Please, Tank. I need you," Lula whispered before her throat closed. She hated to show any weakness.

"We'll be there in ten," Tank told her.

"We're at…" Lula began but he cut her off.

"I know where you're at. I tracked your call."

"Why you sneaky ass motherfucker…" Lula muttered to herself after Tank disconnected.

Nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, the Rangeman cavalry arrived. The guests parted like the Red Sea as Tank, Hal, Lester, Bobby, and Binky made their way inside.

Lula's hands flew to her hips as her head started to bob and weave. "What took you so long?" she demanded. "That ghost over there has been gettin' **spooky** with White Girl."

Tank's head snapped towards the grinding couple. In two long strides, he descended upon them. He gently pulled Stephanie back and handed her off to Lester. He grabbed the ghost by the scruff of the neck.

"You had your hands all over my best friend's woman," Tank told him, his voice bellowed over the music.

Then he smashed the ghost's head into the wall. A body fell from the sheet and crumpled to the floor. A dazed-looking lesbian glanced up at her attacker in shock.

"My **hero**," Lula chided him. "You just beat up on Rosie O'Donnell."

"Dude," the lesbian whined as she rubbed the side of her head.

"Oh my God!" Stephanie gasped. "I didn't know I was gay! Did you guys know I was gay?"

Stephanie looked Lester up and down before she exploded into another fit of giggles. "Where are your costumes? You guys could have come as like soldiers…or the munchkins." More laughter, except this time, Lester joined her.

"Boy was I wrong," Lester smirked. "You don't like getting shot at or getting arrested, but you like getting stoned. You do know how to have fun after all."

"Where's the skip?" Tank asked Lula as he ran a hand over his bald head.

"Oh, he's just hanging around," Stephanie slurred.

"He's cuffed to the fence in the back yard. But watch yourself. He was usin' them bushes as a toilet," Lula explained.

That set Stephanie off again. "Toilet!" she snorted.

"Binky…you drive Miss Plum's car. Lester…you and Hal bring this guy in and get their body receipt. Bobby…you're with Janis Joplin there," Tank ordered.

Stephanie lowered her glasses. "Tank…it's me. Stephanie Plum." She turned to Bobby and Lester. "Tank didn't even recognize me. Is he on something?"

"Let's move like we've got a purpose people!" Tank barked.

"Yes, sir!" they responded in unison.

"Can I get some more brownies before we go?" Stephanie asked Bobby.

"No!" Lula and Tank cried out.

The house got quiet as the last song ended. The DJ announced it was time to announce the winner of the costume contest. "The winner of the $500 grand prize is…Lula as black disco Barbie!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Is that who you are dressed as?" Tank asked with a smile.

"These dumb-ass motherfuckers don't know shit," Lula growled. "I ain't no black Barbie. I'm dressed as Afro-dyte…the Goddess of Love. But for $500, they can think I'm Michelle Obama for all I care."

Lula made her way to the DJ table to collect her prize. With her shiny new Visa gift card in hand, she sashayed her way back to the group. She made a production of kissing the card before sliding it inside her bra.

"This motherfucker is gonna **service** me well!" she declared.

Binky returned and informed the group that Lester and Hal collected Norman Bates. They already left for the police station.

"Thank God," Tank muttered. "Let's get the hell outta before something castration-worthy happens."

Tank placed his hand at the small of Lula's back and guided her towards the front door. Bobby grabbed Stephanie by the hand and followed. She followed willingly until they reached the black SUV.

"What's the matter, White Girl?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"Don't worry," Lula assured her. "Tank had the guys take the masturbator to the cop shop for us. We got it covered."

"Oh," she replied. "Okay."

Lula hopped in the back seat, and Stephanie followed. Tank got behind the wheel with Bobby shotgun. The engine roared to life, and Tank headed back to the city.

"So where are we going?" Stephanie sighed.

"I'm taking you to Rangeman," Tank explained. "I think you should stay on 7 tonight."

"Okay…I just looove Batman's sheets." Stephanie snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Hey…**h****ave ****you ****ever ****noticed ****that ****folks ****will ****say**** '****Look, ****he ****has ****his ****mamma****'****s ****eyes****' ****or **** '****his ****daddy****'****s ****nose,****' ****but ****they ****never ****say **** '****We****'****re ****so ****proud! ****Look! ****He****'****s ****hung ****just ****like ****grampa****'**?"

Bobby howled with laughter while Tank almost jumped the curb as he made a left turn.

"Damn girl…how many of them brownies did you eat?" Lula demanded.

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't know. How many were on the plate?"

"Shit…you gonna be flyin' for a while," Lula sighed.

"Huh?" Stephanie frowned. "We're getting on a plane?"

"No…you _high_, Girl. You stoned from eatin' all them hash brownies."

"Oh." Stephanie slumped in her seat. "That would explain the sudden craving for KFC…and Pop Tarts."

They continued in silence for a few more minutes before Stephanie began to giggle again. The giggle turned into full blown laughter. It took a few minutes before she got herself back under control.

"What's so funny?" Lula asked.

Stephanie shrugged. "I don't know. I forgot."

"This is gonna be a long night," Tank muttered his breath. He turned to Bobby. "How long is this gonna last?"

"Normally, she'd start coming down now," Bobby replied with a grin. "From the sound of it, she's eaten enough to get all of Rangeman high."

"Shit," Tank groaned.

"Don't worry. I think she'll crash in a little while anyway. She'll be all right," Bobby insisted.

Suddenly, Stephanie gasped and leaned over Tank's shoulder. "Oh my God…stop!"

Startled, Tank jammed on the brakes and pitched Stephanie head first. She landed on the floorboard by Bobby's feet.

"Stephanie?" Bobby cried out. "Are you all right?"

"If you wanted me in the front seat…all you had to do was ask," came her muffled reply.

Tank and Bobby tried to untwist her body to help her up, but nothing seemed to work. Tank pulled into the McDonalds' parking lot to get a better handle on the situation. He hopped out and ran around to Bobby's side. Even with the front empty, Stephanie still was ass over head.

"Try to roll this way," Bobby suggested.

"I can't," Stephanie whined. "I'm stuck. The seat ate my hand."

Tank yanked a mini Mag-Lite from his utility belt and shined it under the passenger seat. Sure enough, Stephanie's hand had been wedged between the support bars.

"I don't know why I'm surprised," Tank groan. "Now I know why Ranger worries about you all the time."

The upside-down Stephanie shrugged again. "I don't know either, but I've really got the munchies. Can you get me some french fries and a strawberry milk shake?"

TBC…

Word Count 1396


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

A large fry and a strawberry milkshake later, Tank headed back to Rangeman. If they couldn't free Stephanie's hand, he would have Hal remove the seat and cut the bars apart. He saw the crowd gathered by the elevator as he pulled into the garage. They were like **kids** in a **candy** store waiting for a treat.

He only had to pull over once. Stephanie had gotten a little paranoid and tried to wrench her hand loose. It was a bit **scary** there for a minute, because he thought she would really hurt herself. Luckily, Bobby calmed her down with a chocolate-covered **marshmallow** candy bar. Tank didn't even want to know why Bobby had one on him. Ranger needed to rethink his hiring practices.

"I'm stuck," Stephanie announced to the onlookers. "I'm stuck in a truck."

"Fuck," Lula muttered as she climbed out.

Apparently, Stephanie found this to be amusing and exploded in giggles again. "Stuck. Truck. Fuck."

Bobby shone the flashlight under the seat to get another look at the situation. "I was thinking we could try some WD40. Lubricate her wrist and slide her hand out."

"Lubricants?" Lula exclaimed. "I got lubricants. What flavor you want?"

"We don't need those, Lula," Tank told her.

"**Are ****you ****paying ****attention, ****or ****just ****trying ****to ****make ****me ****look ****like ****an ****idiot**? He said he needed some lubricants," Lula shot back.

"**Oh, ****I'm ****definitely ****paying ****attention. ****If ****you ****look ****like ****an ****idiot, ****it ****has ****nothing ****to ****do ****with ****me,**" Tank replied.

Lula scrunched up her face. "I don't need you're shitty-ass attitude. It's bad enough I get alotta crap from my own **family**. I don't need it from no man who picked kitty cats over his woman. I'm outta here."

"No!" Stephanie whined. "Don't go, Lula. I need you to lubricate me, so I can go to the veterinarian dance with Batman!"

Panic set in again, and Stephanie violently tugged her arm again. Bobby leaned into the truck to try and stop her.

"Damn, White Girl. Chill out," Lula said. "I'll stay…for you. Lula ain't no flat-leaver. I might have been a ho, but at least I got some **honor** when it comes to people I care about."

Lula glared at Tank as she stalked back to the open door. She pulled four small tubes from her purse. "I got cherry, peppermint, apple pie, and nacho cheese flavors. Which one you want?"

"Cherry," Stephanie decided. With a snort, she turned to Bobby. "I lost mine."

Bobby frowned as he reluctantly took the cherry-flavored lubricant from Lula. He squeezed a generous sized glob into the palm of his hand.

"Hold the light for me."

Bobby cocked his head towards the flashlight on the seat. Lula stepped back and allowed Tank to move in closer.

"That smells good," Stephanie sighed. "I could really go for some cherry pie now."

Bobby greased her wrist as best as he could. Her hand looked more swollen than before. He didn't have much hope for success. After ten minutes, he threw in the towel.

"This isn't going to work," he announced. "I'm going to hurt her if I pull any harder."

"Am I going to have to live here now?" Stephanie asked. "I hate mobile homes."

"No," Tank told her. "We're going to remove the seat and cut you out of there. Don't worry, we'll get you out."

Tank grabbed his phone from his hip and called Lester. "What's your ETA?"

"Five minutes."

"Good. We need Hal to cut Stephanie out of the front seat." Tank slammed the phone shut on Lester's laughter.

Stephanie's phone buzzed. She dug around in her bag with her free hand. Her eyes widened as she read the name on the screen. Without thinking, she answered the call.

"Sssshhhh," she hissed at the crowd. "It's Ranger. I don't want him to know that I'm stuck. And don't tell him that I'm gay!"

She put the phone to her ear and cooed into the microphone. "Hi, Ranger."

"Babe? Where are you stuck?"

Stephanie's head whipped around, and she glared at Tank and Bobby. "Who told Ranger I was stuck? I told you not to tell him I was stuck. Did you tell him I was gay, too?"

"What's going on, Babe?" Ranger demanded. "Who's with you?"

Stephanie's lower lip quivered and tears welled in her eyes. "I just found out that I'm gay. Now you won't take me to the dance. Who told you I was stuck?"

"You did. Is Tank with you?"

"Yeah…Tank and Lula and Bobby and…everyone."

"Don't worry, Babe. We're still going to the dance. Could you put Tank on the phone for a minute?"

"You don't care if I'm gay?"

"No, I don't care if you're gay. Put Tank on the phone."

"Are you gay, too?"

Ranger sighed into the phone. "Yes, Babe. I'm gay, too. Let me talk to Tank now."

"Okay." She held out the phone to Tank. "Did you know that Ranger was gay?"

Snickers rippled through the men as Tank took the phone.

"TALK!"

Tank rubbed his temple with his free hand. "I got a call from Lula for help. Stephanie ate a plate of hash brownies and is flying high. I had Lester and Hal turn in her skip. I thought it would be safer to have her crash on 7, so we could keep an eye on her. She yelled for me to stop, I hit the brakes, and she landed in the front. Her hand is stuck between the bars. Are you really gay?"

"Do you really love breathing?"

Tank grimaced. His **Mission** Impossible attempt to lighten to mood was an epic fail. Apparently, Ranger's sense of humor was AWOL. "Hal will be here any minute. I'll have him pull out the seat, and we'll cut the bars. I'll make sure she stays here tonight."

"Affirmative. Put her back on the phone."

"Here. He wants to talk to you," Tank informed her as he handed back her phone.

"Tank said I can stay in your apartment tonight," she slurred into the phone.

"I can't talk too long. I'm getting on a plane in a few minutes."

"You're gonna fly? Did you eat those brownies too?"

"I'll see you in a few hours, Babe. Just try to get some sleep after they get you out of the truck," he soothed.

"I love sleeping in your bed," she admitted. "I love your sheets. And I looove you, too. Even if you are gay."

"I gotta go. Talk to you later. We'll discuss this further when you come back down to Earth."

Stephanie frowned at the phone. "Are we on another planet?"

Within fifteen minutes, Hal popped the bolts on the seat. Lester titled the chair backward and held it in place. Hal handed Bobby a heavy-duty blanket.

"We need to cover her up while I saw these bars," he explained.

Bobby tried to place the blanket over Stephanie, but she would scream each time.

"No! I'm not dead! Please don't cover me up!"

"It's gonna be fine, Steph," Lester told her. "It'll only be for a minute. We don't want you to get hurt."

No one could convince her otherwise. Bobby excused himself and jogged to the stairwell. He returned with his medical kit.

"What are you going to do?" Tank whispered.

"Just give her a little sedative," Bobby replied. His eyes scanned her body to find the right spot. Even though Ranger would probably kill him, he injected the medication into her butt. With it sticking up in the air, it was the easiest target.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "I got stung by a bee…on my ass!"

Bobby and Lester kept reassuring her things were fine. Her eyelids became heavier. Finally, Stephanie drifted off to sleep. Five minutes later, they gave her **freedom**.

Tank scooped up Stephanie and motioned for Lula to follow him. "Ranger's on his way. I thought you could help me babysit until he gets here. I think we should talk."

Lula nodded and followed him to the elevator. "We ain't never been good at talkin'."

"There's a first time for everything," he replied.

The next morning, Stephanie slowly awakened. The dull ache in her wrist and the floor-of-a-taxicab feeling in her mouth reminded her of the events of the prior night. As the cobwebs began to clear, the warm body next to her tightened his grip.

"Welcome back to Earth, Babe," he told her in a husky voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Please tell me that last night was a bad dream," she begged. "I mean everything that happened _after_ you asked me to go to the dance. Especially the part where I was dancing with a lesbian. And…that you're not really gay."

The bed shook as Ranger laughed. "I'm not gay. How about you?"

"She was a good dancer, but I'm so not gay. Sorry about your truck. I don't know how that happened," she sighed.

"Babe…the last twenty-four hours have been like the Twilight Zone. I've seen a lot of weird shit when I was in the **service**, but nothing like I experienced last night."

"Was I that **spooky**?" She questioned him.

"No, _you_ were a lot of fun. When I got home, I found Tank and Lula getting busy to _Jungle __Boogie_. I'll never be able to sit on my couch again. I sort of liked that couch. I think I'm scarred for life."

"Tank and Lula made up? That's great!" She snuggled closer to Ranger. It was a crazy night. The costume party. Norman Bates. Norman?

"Shit," she muttered. "I can't believe I blew it. Vinnie lost the bond, and I lost all that money."

He kissed her forehead. "No, you didn't. You cuffed him to the fence. Lester and Hal brought him in for you. The body receipt is in your bag. Do you remember anything else?"

She internally cringed. If she did remember correctly, she admitted to loving more than Ranger's sheets. And in front of all of Rangeman to boot. Time to confess, she told herself.

Stephanie shifted to her side, so she could look Ranger in the eyes. "Thank you. For everything you do for me. I know I don't always show it, but I really do appreciate it. And…" She bit her lower lip.

"Do I have to get you high again to say it?"

"I…I love you," she whispered. "I always have. It's just that when you sent me back to Morelli…I was afraid of getting hurt."

Ranger smirked. "I told you to fix it with Morelli, because you said it wouldn't work between us. I was protecting myself because I love you, too."

"I guess we have to work on our communications skills," she agreed. "I think Lula and Tank broke up because they didn't talk."

"By the Wild Kingdom episode I saw, they still weren't talking."

Her eyes dropped to ogle his bare chest. It was chiseled perfection. Something else caught her eye, and she looked down at the tented sheet.

"Is that a **ghost** or are you just happy to see me?" she teased.

He rolled on top of her. "**Trick ****or ****treat**, Babe."

"I thought we were going to work on our communication?"

"Later," he grunted. "Right now I want to work on our fornication."

"Far out."

THE END

Word Count 1889


End file.
